Of Weddings and Wishes
by Booksrgood4u
Summary: A series of one-shot leading to the Royal Wedding. I hope you enjoy!


I

Attolia signed her name to the last of the invitations with a sense of accomplishment. It had taken her most of the afternoon, but she had finally made her way through the extensive list of barons, ambassadors and dignitaries from all over the Continent who must necessarily be invited to a wedding of state. Rubbing her tired wrist, she was not surprised to see Eugenides, her future husband, leaning against the wall behind her.

"It's finished," she said, "All of the invitations for the wedding." Eugenides sauntered over to her desk to flip through the perilously high stack of envelopes that threatened to topple over and obscure her desk. Eugenides read the names aloud as he thumbed through the papers.

"Baron Erondites, now there's a cheerful fellow," he commented. "The Ambassador from Medea, haven't you had enough of those?"

"I can't risk offending some powerful dignitary simply because you don't care for their company." Irene briskly shuffled the envelopes back into a pile.

"I've got an idea," Eugenides said thoughtfully. Irene raised an eyebrow, inviting him to continue. "Why don't we elope."

"Elope," she echoed incredulously.

"Elope," he confirmed, "Just you and me. I could steal you away some night - I'm getting quite good at that, and your guards don't mind. No invitations, no fuss, no unpleasant ambassadors sneering at us." He sighed dramatically.

"And miss all that pomp and glitter?" Irene pointed out.

"Yes, I suppose I'd miss the pomp and glitter, but the company would be better. Much better." He grinned winningly at her, and Irene couldn't help the small smile that grew in return.

II

"If Your Majesty could stay a moment?"

Attolia addressed the Queen of Eddis after a particularly long and boring meeting finalizing the treaty between their two countries. Eddis paused in gathering up her papers.

"Of course," she answered, looking up. Irene turned to arch an eyebrow at Eugenides, still sitting at the table with his chair tipped back on two legs, then looked pointedly towards the door.

"So, so, so," he said, mimicking her raised eyebrow. "Trying to get rid of me already, are you?" The front two feet of the chair hit the floor with a thud. "Too late," he whispered in her ear as he passed her, "You're already stuck with me." He kissed her cheek and was gone. A slight smile played across Irene's lips.

"The sketches from the dressmakers arrived today," Irene explained once he was gone. She spread the drawings out on the table. "I thought you might like to see them."

"I would love to," Helen bent to admire the sketches. "I don't envy you the decision," she said, straightening up, "They're all beautiful. Have you shown Eugenides?"  
"No." Irene answered definitively, "Nor do I intend to. I've heard enough of his advice about my wardrobe already. I can only imagine what he would have to say about a wedding gown."

"Yours too?" Helen asked sympathetically. "I would have thought he would like your taste in clothing, after all those years he spent lecturing me about the elegance of simplicity." Irene looked at her, genuinely surprised.

"Really? He's forever pointing out the wide range of styles and colors you wear. He claims I need more variety." The two queens considered this for a moment before Helen began to laugh outright. Irene allowed a small smile to grow, enjoying the novelty of it, and deep inside, hoping that it would not remain a novelty much longer.

III

Attolia twirled her pen between her fingers as she listened to Dite expatiate about the various marches and fanfares traditionally played at a royal wedding. Knowing he would be knowledgeable on the subject, Irene had thought he would have been pleased to advise them in the matter. However, Dite's voice seemed strained to her ear, and though he addressed himself only to her, he sent frequent contemptuous glances in Eugenides' direction. Her future husband did nothing to include himself in the conversation, and instead seemed to be tracing designs in the plasterwork above his head.

"Thank you, Dite, that was most informative." Attolia thought Dite sounded immensely relieved as he thanked her and nodded toward Eugenides. Irene had the distinct impression that he was running away.

"I wonder what's bothering Dite," she murmured as she made a few hasty notes and straightened up her papers.

"Hmmmm?" Eugenides seemed to pull himself back into reality. Irene pursed her lips in annoyance.

"Dite seemed … not himself,"

Eugenides appeared to consider this for a moment.

"He seemed his normal unpleasant self to me,"

Irene ignored him.

"I wonder if he's had another argument with his father,"

Irene suspected this to be the most likely cause of Dite's discomfort. "Baron Erondites has been causing more trouble than usual lately. If I knew a way to be rid of him without causing a civil war, I would do it in a heartbeat." Irene rubbed a hand across her forehead.

"Perhaps, when I am king," Eugenides began cockily, standing up and walking toward her, "I'll take care of him for you."

Irene stared at him, appalled by his arrogance.

"You think that you can eradicate a threat that has plagued me the length of my reign simply because some priest anoints you king?"

"I can do anything I want, and yes, even that." Gen looked altogether too smug.

"I'll believe it when I see it." Irene was not impressed with his meaningless boasts. "I have business to be about." She stood to leave. Ignoring him, she walked toward the door.

"Six months, O my Queen." She turned back to face him.

"Beg pardon?"

"Just you wait. The house of Erondites will fall in six months. I promise you." This last part sounded so serious, so sincere, all trace of his former cockiness gone. Still, Irene was not inclined to believe him.

"We'll see," was all she said.

"Yes you will see." His cockiness was back now. "And then you'll know better."

IV

The dance master put the queen and future king through the tenth or eleventh repetition of the traditional dance danced by a bride and groom at their wedding feast. The dance was full of complicated sequences. Too complicated, Irene began to worry, to be danced by a man with only one hand. The dance master's eyes silently rebuked her for having forgotten the steps he himself had taught her so many years ago in the weeks before her first wedding. He verbally rebuked Eugenides for his missteps, though Irene had begun to suspect that Gen was trying to irritate the man with his mistakes. The dance master grumbled and fussed that Irene was too tall to dance with Eugenides, and implied that Eugenides was too inept to dance with his queen.

After countless more repetitions, the man complimented his queen.

"Your Majesty is doing quite nicely - both dancing and compensating for your partner." Eugenides' eye's narrowed, and he looked ready to throw the man's words back in his face. Irene stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"We are done here, I think. You may go." The dance master looked as happy to be going as they were to be rid of him.

"It would seem we are a very ill-matched set," Irene commented after the man had gone.

"So he says." Eugenides collapsed onto the floor to stare up at the ceiling.

"And what do you say," Irene inquired, looking down at him, referring to more than just their dissimilar heights.

"I read once that opposites attract. Based on that premise, the more dissimilar we are, the better we go together. Therefore, I would say we are very well matched." He rolled over to prop his chin on his hand and looked up at her, "Wouldn't you agree?" Irene couldn't help the smile his backwards logic had elicited.

"Are you aware how nonsensical that sounded?" she asked, to avoid answering the question.  
"Yes," he grinned up at her. "Yes, I am. But you know what I meant, and I know what I meant, so we must be a perfect pair. Dance with me." He was off the floor and spinning her about before she even knew he had moved. Taken by surprise, Irene laughed.

V

As the wedding drew nearer, Irene's schedule grew more hectic. Her days were filled with final preparations and meetings with arriving dignitaries. The normal duties of running a kingdom did not slacken simply because the queen was planning a wedding, and the nearer queen's marriage came, the less she saw of the man she was marrying. She told herself that it was only her busy schedule keeping them apart, and during the day, she believed it. At night, however, a nagging voice in the back of her mind whispered that he was avoiding her, that he was having second thoughts. The thought kept her awake, staring into the dark.

"Irene." His voice broke into her contemplations. She could just make him out, sitting cross-legged on the end of her bed.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed, "It's the middle of the night."  
"I'm marrying you in three days and I haven't seen you in three weeks." His voice sounded pleading.  
"Don't be angry at me, Irene, I've missed you." He ducked his head. "I thought you were avoiding me."

Irene bit her lip, the thought never having occurred to her that the same nagging voice that plagued her might also plague him. On impulse, she reached out and took his hand.

"I haven't been avoiding you at all," she whispered, meaning it. He suddenly grinned, slipping off the end of the bed, without releasing her hand.

"Come out with me," he said, tugging at her hand, "to the roofs."

"No," she began, "My attendants, my guards -"

"Won't even know you're gone," he finished soothingly. He reached behind him and snagged her robe with his hook, holding out toward her "Please?" Eugenides sounded so hopeful that she accepted her robe and stepped out of bed. He led her through narrow passages and hidden stairs, and up a final flight of stairs leading to a door. "Close your eyes," he ordered blocking the door. Irene raised an eyebrow, but humored him. The door opened and he stepped behind her to slip his hand over her eyes. He led her across the flat roof, the breeze gently playing across it. "Alright," he whispered, his hand dropping from her eyes. Irene's breath caught at the view over the sleeping city and the starry sky, thinking she could lose herself in the peaceful quiet the roof afforded. It was a few moments before she noticed her toes edging the dizzying drop. She gasped and clutched instinctively for Eugenides' arm. He eased her back from the edge, holding her tightly, until the wave of fear had passed. "Don't worry." He sounded both comforting and amused. "I won't let you fall." He turned her face, forcing her to look at him. "I will keep you safe."

VI

Irene stared into the mirror, watching Phresine pin her hair into a simple yet elegant arrangement. Her dress was also a simple cut, graceful in its simplicity. Phresine was quiet as she finished the arrangement.

"What is it, Phresine?" Irene asked meeting her eyes in the mirror.

"It is nothing, Your Majesty," Phresine answered as she removed a pin and replaced it more firmly.

"You can't fool me, Phresine," Irene said with a faint smile, "I know you too well."

"I wanted to offer my sincerest best wishes to and you and your soon-to-be husband." Suspecting there was more, Irene waited. "I have served you for many years, now," Phresine began tentatively; "I have watched you grow from a girl to a woman. I have seen the change in you throughout those years. I have never seen you as content as you have been these last few months." Irene did not interrupt her, and Phresine, grown more confident, continued. "You smile more than you ever have. You are more relaxed, despite your busy schedule. You are happy for the first time since I have known you, and I am unspeakably happy for you." Phresine was silent for a moment as Irene considered this. "Just the ramblings of an old woman," Phresine said, with a dismissive shrug. Irene turned to face her.

"Is it really that obvious?" She had felt the coldness inside of her begin to melt as the warmth seeped in, but she hadn't known anyone else had noticed.

"Only to those with eyes to see," Phresine answered patting Irene's shoulder gently. Quietly, she left the room, leaving Irene alone to contemplate her words.

She turned back to the mirror. She remembered another wedding, long ago, and another mirror. She remembered touching her face, wondering if it could be as cold and hard as it had appeared, staring back at her in that other mirror. She lifted a hand to touch her face now, all those years later, wondering if the warmth she felt had been there all along, suppressed by a cold mask, or if the warmth was something new, born of a few months of peace and the beginnings of happiness. She thought of Eugenides, and all he had given her, had given up for her, how much he loved her, and how much she loved him. She smiled at her reflection. She had only one thing left to do. She called her attendants back into the room.

**The End**


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